


honeycombs

by offensiveandgay



Category: Panic At The Disco, Panic! at the Disco, Ryan Ross - Fandom, Ryden - Fandom, brendon urie - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mental Hospital, PHP, partial patient
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:13:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offensiveandgay/pseuds/offensiveandgay
Summary: Brendon Urie is depressed. There’s no question about that. He had taken enough medicine for an entire family with the intentions of ending his life. But after that didn’t work, he starts to question much more than his mental state. Brendon Urie is perplexed. And a fidgety patient named Ryan isn’t helping.





	1. Chapter 1

THIS STORY TALKS ABOUT SUICIDE, ABUSE, SELF HARM, AND OTHER TRIGGERING SUBJECTS.  
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE STAY SAFE.  
LOVE,  
OFFENSIVEANDGAY


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prologue

My eye lids feel heavy as I open them for the first time today. It’s 1:00AM and pitch black. I can’t see anything but faint orange orbs through the dark glass of the ambulance’s windows. 

Street lights.  
I stare at them. 

Occasionally there’s silver and red from the cars that pass us by. My IV bag is swinging wildly. Every time we hit a bump I feel like it’s going to pull itself out of my arm.  
“You okay, Brendon?” The woman who strapped me in asks.  
I nod and close my eyes again. 

What’s the point of looking when all I can see is orange, silver, and red. 

What’s the point.


	3. chapter 1

“My name is Brendon, I’m here for anxiety, suicidal ideations and depression, my mood is... anxious. My goal for today is to adjust to my new surroundings.” I say, finally getting the mentally rehearsed verses out of my head and into the room.   
Everyone is staring at something that isn’t me. Their laceless shoes, their fingers, the ceiling.   
“And how are you going to achieve that?” I read the employee’s nametag. Jimmie.  
“Learn at least two people’s names.” This is a statement but it came out as more of a question. I didn’t expect any follow up questions. I didn’t expect any of this.   
“Brittany.” Jimmie read off of the sheet in front of him.   
The girl next to me with bleach blonde hair lifted her head. “I’m Brittany, my goal for today is to focus on treatment,” she paused, earning a giggle from the other patients and a glare from Jimmie, “I’m here for B-P-D and psychosis, and my mood is calm.”  
Everyone in the room went around saying basically the same. Patrick, social anxiety, stay positive, happy. Pete, DID, focus on treatment, confused. Haley, depression and disobedience, focus on treatment, excited. I wasn’t really listening. Am I ever listening? I’m listening now. Dallon is talking.   
“I’m here for anxiety and self harm, my goal is to focus on treatment and my mood is endless.”  
“Dallon?”  
“Yes, Jimmie Neutron?”  
“My mother did not name me Jimmie for you to call me that, Weekes. Watch yourself.”  
“Understood.” Something in his smile tells me he wasn’t taking him seriously whatsoever. No one was.   
“And what does endless mean?”   
“I feel everything, Jimmie. Everything.”  
Jimmie sighs. “Next.”  
“My name is Ryan, I’m here for truama, self harm, suicidal ideations, depression, dissociation, etcetera. My goal for today is to not be an asshole to the staff and other patients. My mood is numb.” Ryan is scratching his wrist but Dallon mouths the letters M and O to him and he immediately stops.   
“And how will you not be an asshole to the staff and other patients, Ryan?”  
“By keeping my fucking mouth shut.”   
“Next.” Jimmie accepted his answer and moved on, but I couldn’t.   
Ryan’s leg was bouncing faster than I had thought possible. His entire body was shaking because of it, making his head of curly brown hair come alive. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be mouthing something to himself.   
The last patient finished and we were excused. Jimmie led us back to the “waiting room.” We were in the basement of the facility so it isn’t the actual waiting room. It has two tables, some chairs, and a few boardgames and such. I didn’t know where to sit. This feels like middle school gym class. Everyone has their teams but poor Brendon is the last to be picked. I hate being a stranger.   
“Hey, over here!” Patrick waves his hand and directs his invitation my way. Thank god.   
I sit down next to him.   
“You’re Brendon, right?”   
I nod.  
“Cool.” He shakes a deck of cards, “Go Fish?”  
I nod again. He deals me seven cards and does the same for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and sweet


End file.
